KENDRICK LAMAR - Tim Westwood Freestyle lyrics

rate me

Rollin’ in a broken Mitsubishi with no AC

And a couple stolen TV’s and a seatbelt for my safety

Play the passenger, I think it’s 5 years after 80-

7, do that math, 92, don’t you be lazy

I’m looking out the window, notice all the essentials

Of a block party that stopped for a second

Then it rekindled like the flame from a trick candle

Everybody got dental insurance, ‘cause we bout to floss

You get the couch I sent you?

I heard that from a block away, probably had credentials

Of a scholar, but should not today

Them Dayton spokes was his to take

Refrigerators, barbecue pits, and Jordan kicks

They did invasions while helicopters recorded it

Hello, my Mr. Miagi, I want them Kenwood Woofers

Say that you got me

If not, I’ll dig in your drawer for it

The SWAT meet was the bullseye like tourists is

Murder was the melody, you should know what the chorus is

You really telling me we can just get some more of it if we run out?

He said “Lil nigga, today the poor is rich”

Don't tell your mom that you seen a molotov bomb

And if she asks, just know that you have to lie

And son, don’t forget:

You from Compton

Brace yourself, I take you on a trip down memory lane

This is not a rap on how I’m slaying brick and moving cane

Cul de sac and plenty Cognac in major pain

Not the drill sergeant, but the stress that’s weighing on your brain

Its me a boogying-ing

Lucky, ride down Rose Cranz

Ugly, waving yo hand out the window, brace yourself, uh

Warriors and Conans

Euphoria can slow dance

Society, the driver seat, the first one to get killed

Life scared with his brains pouring out

At the same burger stand where (mmm) hang out

Now this is not a tape recorder saying that he did it

But ever since that day, I was looking at him different

That was back when I was nine

Joey packed a nine

Pakistan on every porch, it’s fine

We adapt to crime, pack a van full

(1:54-2:00 is censored too much to decipher)

Picking off you suckers, suck a dick

Die a sucker punch, a ball of bullets coming from

AK’s, AR’s, Aye y’all; duck

That’s what Mama said when we was eatin’ that free lunch

Aw man, god damn, all hell broke loose

You killed my cousin back in ‘94, fuck yo truce

Now crawl yo head in that noose

You wind up dead on the news

And no peace treaties just peace and BG’s appearing to prove

Bodies on top of bodies, IV’s on top of IV’s

Obviously the coroner between the sheets like the Isleys

When you hop on that trolly, your color’s correct

Make sure each corporate knows they’ll be calling your mother collect

Now, what you expect?

My life is a threat

Good kid, m.A.A.d. city

Life or death, is you with me?